


the sun is not yet covered by darkness

by greensweater



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Canon Backstory, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Analysis, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Implied Poe Dameron/Finn, Kylo Ren Backstory, M/M, Mentioned Anakin Skywalker, Mentioned Luke Skywalker, Mild Hurt/Comfort, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, POV Han Solo, POV Leia Organa, Parents Han and Leia, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Pre-Poe Dameron/Finn, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Spoilers, Stormpilot, Young Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greensweater/pseuds/greensweater
Summary: Han Solo cried when his son was born. He didn't shed a single tear as he watched his son kill him. Back on base, Leia felt a stabbing pain in her chest as the man she loved died at the hands of his own flesh and blood.





	

When Ben was born, Han cried. He’d never really done that much before, as his violent upbringing hardened him against most things that would break another person. Han had suffered death, heartbreak, pain, all without shedding a single tear.

But when Leia’s steady hands cradled their child against her heaving chest, forehead shiny with sweat but smile as radiant as the sun, Han covered his face and sobbed. 

They never spoke of the incident, but Leia sometimes looked at Han and thought of his softness. 

Ben grew quickly, shooting up to be almost taller than his father by age thirteen. His face, young and so much like Han’s in likeness, never seemed to mature, instead simply becoming longer and more weathered. 

There was always something… _off_ about their son. Han and Leia exchanged worried glances when, instead of playing with the other kids on the base, he sat by himself and looked into the distance, face unreadable. 

One day, Leia told her son about Anakin Skywalker and the thing he’d become, hands twisting around each other as she remembered that terrible night when Luke told her everything. 

Luke always told her everything, no matter how grisly or painful or heartbreaking.

When Luke told them, face too old for his years, that their son had slaughtered the other students training to become Jedi, Leia sat on the end of their bed, staring at her hands. Those hands had directed soldiers to die, had stroked the leathery skin of Jabba against their will, had slain galaxies without so much as a tremor. Maybe she’d passed on some of this cruel precision through her bloodline. Maybe Ben had watched her with innocent eyes as she sent men to their deaths. 

But Han also sat, hands shaking and blunt nails biting into callused palms. Those hands were weak but held the power of mighty armies. He had killed and stolen and plundered; and maybe Ben had laughed when Han told him bedtime stories of blood and war. 

It was both of their faults, or maybe it was neither; maybe Vader tainted his bloodline all the way down to his grandson. 

It didn’t matter. Ben was gone, a masked terror taking his place, wearing his skin. Or perhaps Leia and Han never knew their son at all; perhaps he never was Ben, but simply Kylo pretending his way through youth. But it didn’t matter. He would grow up to become Kylo Ren, a child in a mask, playing with things he didn’t understand.

Luke disappeared, along with Han, and Leia was left again to throw herself into fighting another war. When her world imploded, that was what she did. She gave orders and pressed big red buttons and tried not to think of who would die that day.

She trained a new pilot, Poe Dameron, and was reminded inexplicably of Han with the boy’s devilish smirk. 

“I miss him,” she confided quietly to Poe, and he put his strong arms around her.

There were bitter times when she wished that Poe had been her son.

The years passed and Han reverted back into his old ways, Chewbacca a comforting, familiar presence. He fled Leia and every reminder of the life that had one saved him. He took disgusting, loathsome joy in stealing and shooting and flying his old ship across the galaxy while hating himself and who he fundamentally _was_ when no friends were around to drag him into saving the world. Han Solo was out of the conflict, out of responsibility… until two kids and a BB-8 unit stole his Falcon and he was thrown back into it again.

“Damn,” he growled harshly to Chewbacca after Rey shot him a grin that reminded him painfully of Leia, “I miss her.”

Chewy roared mournfully in agreement.

She was still small, a tiny sun that barked orders and gave warm hugs to those returning from a mission. She was still Leia, and Han hoped she wouldn’t slap him clear across the face the moment she saw him.

He was rather hoping she would kiss him instead.

She did neither of those, instead giving him a small, bittersweet smile and looking at him as if he’d saved the world (Well, he technically _had_ , but that was beside the point). Her eyes still shone light brown and those crinkles when she smiled—he had missed those.

After they spoke words that meant nothing and everything at once, he decided to tell her.

“I saw him,” he said, and her face crumpled. 

 

…

 

Leia and Han, together again. He followed her around, asking obnoxious questions and moving close to feel the brush of her hand against his. She looked over her shoulder, exasperated, and smiled a secret smile, the one she only used for him. Everything and nothing had changed.

They spotted Poe and Finn standing together, closer than mere acquaintances, and Leia smiled softly, remembering when she too had stared into a lover's eyes and felt reckless and bold and young. (Of course, she still did.) 

She wished--

But then there was Finn, and Rey, and the _war_ at hand. He had to leave again, too soon, and she had to watch him depart.

When he looked down at her, goodbye speech already prepared but no words coming to mind, she read the unspoken plea of _just hold me_ in his eyes and drew him close. Leia rested her old head against Han’s old heart and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him and saying a silent goodbye.

They somehow knew that was the last time.

Leia watched Han’s retreating back, fresh pain replacing the ancient agony she’d shouldered for so long.

Her son and her lover forever slipped through her fingers, no matter how hard she tried to hold on to them.

When Han saw his son’s body on Starkiller Base something inside of him froze, twisting and opening the wound he’d spent years scabbing over. He did not cry.

“Ben!” he roared, the name clawing its way out of his chest. 

He ran after Ben, pleading and hoping and grabbing on to the last bit of his son he could find.

When Kylo started to melt away he’d felt relief but knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as a father’s love to save the broken boy in front of him.

 _Whatever you need_ , he promised the boy. _Do it_ , he said silently, putting everything he’d ever felt in his life into that promise.

There was a moment when Han thought he wasn’t going to die.

But there was the shrieking agony of a light-saber piercing his heart, and the last thing he saw was Ben, not Kylo, staring at him wide-eyed with panic. 

_Leia_ , he thought wildly, and then he was falling, hand dropping from his son’s wet cheek as he toppled into nothingness.

Back on the Resistance base, Leia felt something inside her splinter into pieces. She put a hand to her heart, staggering sideways as if she were the one stabbed through at the hands of her own flesh and blood. 

And she knew. 

“General Organa?” asked the man to her left, rather tentatively. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, “Yes. I’m all right. Send in three more fleets.”

Because she’d already grieved the loss of Han, and seeing him again was just one more shining moment to remember late at night when memories kept her awake.

Back on Starkiller Base, Chewbacca howled and howled.

 

…

 

In most stories, that would be the end of their little family, the broken boy and the swashbuckling rebel and the fierce princess general. This would be The End.

But in this story it’s not The End, not as long as Ben Solo still breathes, trapped inside of Kylo Ren. He still has a chance to return home, like he promised his father and like his father promised his mother. 

The son is not yet lost to the Darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this while rewatching The Force Awakens at midnight last week :D Tell me if you like this! This is my first time writing Star Wars and I'm trying out a new writing style--opinions are appreciated as I'm always trying to improve. ~shippingslut


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